Trumpet of Death
Page 22
“I can’t imagine what it’s like,” said Victoria.
“It’s hell,” said Dana.
They were silent for a few moments.
Victoria asked, “Do you live near the hospital?”
“I live on Barnes Road, near the roundabout. It’s only a fifteen-minute commute.”
“That’s a lovely area,” said Victoria.
“I have an apartment on the second floor of a nice old house, built probably before the Second World War.” He smiled. “I don’t suppose that sounds old to you. My landlady’s house is in a grove of big trees that shade my apartment.” He stood. “Would you like dessert? I’m getting a dish of coffee ice cream.”
“I’d like that.”
Before Dana returned with the ice cream, Casey came into the lunchroom. She looked around, spotted Victoria, and made her way to the table. “Finished already, Victoria? We can leave unless you don’t mind sitting through lunch while I eat.”
She was about to head to the buffet table when Dana returned. Casey looked at him, then at Victoria. “I don’t know how you do it, Victoria. You’re a magnet for handsome men.”
He laughed. “She’s a magnet, all right. I’m Dana Putnam, a nurse here.” He held out a hand. “And you’re a police officer, I see.”
“Casey McNeill,” she said, shaking his hand.
“West Tisbury’s chief of police,” said Victoria, “I serve as her deputy.”
“May I get you anything, Chief?” asked Dana.
“Thanks, but I want to look over the offerings.”
“If you’ve got to be in a hospital, this is the place to be,” he said. “I’m convinced the chefs are cordon bleu.” He sat. “I’ll join Mrs. Trumbull for dessert, then I have to get back to the ER.”
“I heard you had a busy time last night,” said Casey.
“That’s for sure. Around eight last night they brought in an unconscious man with a head injury. He’d been hit on the back of the head.”
“Will he be all right?” asked Victoria.
Dana shrugged. “He’s not in great shape.”
“Be right back,” said Casey, and left.
“Do you know who he is?” asked Victoria.
Dana shook his head. “Privacy rules prevent me from giving out any information.”
“Of course. I knew that. I shouldn’t have asked.”
They finished their ice cream, and Dana cleared the empty dishes away. “Sorry to leave, Mrs. Trumbull. I’ve got to get back to work.”
* * *
After Dana left and while Casey was still getting her lunch, Victoria’s grandniece Hope, the head nurse at the hospital, stopped by her table.
“Hi, Aunty Vic. I didn’t expect to see you here. It’s your day to read, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and afterward I met with Dana Putnam for lunch.”
“That’s so sad about Emily.”
“Dana is an emergency room nurse, isn’t he?”
“He’s one of us. We rotate in the ER.”
“I understand a seriously wounded man was brought in last night. Dana had to leave to get back to monitoring him. Does it look as though the man will survive?”
“He’s still alive, barely. But people can pull through the most awful injuries with help of machines and tubes. I can’t tell you anything more about him, but talk to Sergeant Smalley. He can tell you stuff. Cop to cop, you know.”
“Do you have time to sit?” asked Victoria.
Hope looked at her watch. “Afraid not, Auntie Vic. Gotta run.”
* * *
Casey returned after Hope left.
“You missed my grandniece,” said Victoria.
“We said hi to each other when I was on line.” Casey unloaded her tray and set it aside. “Nice of Dana to join you.” Casey picked up her fork. “What did you talk about?”
“His daughter, Emily.”
Casey ate a few mouthfuls, looking thoughtful. “Okay, now I get the connection. At the drug task force meeting a couple weeks ago we discussed Emily Putnam’s case. It involved Samantha.”
Victoria nodded.
“You’re doing a bit of investigation?”
“Now that I’ve got free rein.”
Casey dug her fork into her salad. “Sad,” she said after a pause. “She was a beautiful girl, quiet. A top student. Not many friends yet. Samantha approached her, hooked her on one of the opioid drugs.” Casey set her fork down and picked up two sugar packets. She tore the corners off both and poured the sugar into her iced tea. “Emily’s grades dropped. She lost weight. Her dad figured she was missing her mom.”
“You’d think a nurse would recognize drug abuse symptoms,” said Victoria.
“You know the old story about the shoemaker’s kids going without shoes. I guess the same applies to a nurse’s kids.” She continued to stir her iced tea while she talked. “Emily dropped out of school.”
“Her father said she is in a rehabilitation center near Boston.”
“Costing her father more than he earns,” said Casey. “Her mother tried to commit suicide and blames everything on the father.”
Victoria smoothed out her paper napkin, folded it, and put it in her pocket.
“You know the way people think, ‘You took my child away from me, and now look what you’ve done to her and to me.’ Same old, same old.” Casey worked on her salad some more. “What did you learn from Dana, Victoria?”
“Just what you’ve told me, only from his point of view.”
“Which was that he hated Samantha’s guts and would have killed her if someone else hadn’t done it first?”
“He didn’t say that, exactly. He indicated that he thought the parents are covering up for whoever killed her, assuming it’s one of them. And the parents are almost equally upset by Bruno Eberhardt, who’s filed or is filing suit against them.” Victoria changed the subject. “How was the police chiefs’ meeting?”
Casey took a sip of her iced tea. “I don’t think I told you that at the last meeting Chief VanDyke from Aquinnah wanted to clarify whether the state could prosecute tribal members in homicide cases or whether they had immunity because of their sovereign nation status.”
“What was the decision?” asked Victoria, interested.
“The consensus was that in cases of homicide the state takes over. This week he mentioned, just sort of offhand, that he was afraid two tribal members might be involved in a homicide case. He wasn’t any more specific than that.” Casey finished her salad, took a final sip of her iced tea, put the remains back on her tray, and stood. “I’ll dispose of this and then we can head for home. I have a pile of paperwork to take care of.”
“I’d like to stop in at the state police barracks,” said Victoria. “I want to ask Sergeant Smalley about the patient who was brought in to the hospital last night.”
“Good idea. I’ll join you,” said Casey.
* * *
The hospital was on a hill overlooking the harbor. From the parking lot they could see a ferry coming around the jetty. A flock of seagulls trailed behind it.
“Drugs bring such ugliness to this beautiful Island,” said Casey.
“Ugliness and trouble,” said Victoria.
They climbed into the police cruiser, and Casey pulled away from the space. “I heard on the police scanner about the injured man being brought here to the hospital. Have they identified him yet?”
“I’m sure they have,” said Victoria, “but with all the privacy rules, the hospital couldn’t tell me anything. Hope suggested I talk to Sergeant Smalley, cop to cop.”
Casey laughed. “You’re truly one of us, aren’t you?”
They parked behind the barracks and went up to the side door. Tried the door, but it was locked. Casey knocked.
“Notice,” said Casey, “that they lock their doors.”
“This is Oak Bluffs,” said Victoria. “Not West Tisbury.”
Sergeant Smalley answered their knock.
“Mrs. Trumbull, good to
see you,” he said. “You too, Chief. Come in. Fresh coffee is on.”
“We don’t mean to stay long,” said Victoria.
“Come on into the conference room anyway and have a cup,” said Smalley.
They had just taken their seats when Trooper Tim appeared with a tray and three mugs of steaming coffee.
“Thank you,” Victoria said, smiling up at him.
“No problem,” said Tim, and left.
“What’s on your mind, Chief?” Smalley asked.
“Victoria wanted to see you, John. I’m her chauffeur today.”
He turned to Victoria.
“It’s about the man who was injured last night. I was curious to know if he’s involved in the Eberhardt case, but the hospital can’t provide information. They suggested we talk to you.”
Smalley nodded. “Bruno Eberhardt.”
“Is he still alive?”
“Barely.”
“Are there concerns about his staying alive?”
Smalley took a deep breath. “We should have someone guarding him twenty-four hours a day. We have no idea who attacked him or why.” He lifted his coffee mug but didn’t drink. “The problem is, the hospital doesn’t have the staff to continue watching over him once he’s out of medical danger, and we police are shorthanded. We’ll have someone with him as long and often as possible, but we can’t dedicate a police guard twenty-four/seven.” He took a sip of coffee and set the mug down.
“What about police from the other towns?” asked Casey. “We’re shorthanded, too, but we’ll give you whatever assistance we can.”
“Thanks, Chief. I’ve contacted all the town selectmen. All the police departments are equally shorthanded, but they’ll help out as much as they can. We already have offers of assistance from Aquinnah.” He turned his mug around absently. “It would save us a lot of trouble if we could nail the assailant.” He looked at Victoria. “I don’t know if that gives you the answers you need.”
“I’m not sure either,” said Victoria.
* * *
“I’d like to stop at Cronig’s,” said Victoria when they were on their way back to West Tisbury. “I need to pick up cat food. I can take the bus home.”
“I’ll wait for you, Victoria,” said Casey. “The longer I can put off working on that paperwork, the better.”
Victoria was in the pet food aisle looking through rows of canned cat food to find a kind that McCavity would eat, when a familiar voice said, “They’re hard to please, aren’t they?”
Victoria looked up from her search. “Hello, Abilene.”
“What does your cat like?”
“Only the best,” replied Victoria. “Wild salmon from Alaska. He turns up his nose at anything else.”
“Mehitabel’s the same way,” said Abilene. “She refuses to catch the mice that inhabit my studio.”
“Speaking of your studio,” said Victoria. “I’d like to see it sometime.”
“Of course. I’m there almost every day. Call first to make sure I’m not out running errands.” She rummaged through her shoulder bag and brought out a business card, which she gave to Victoria. “Here’s my phone number.”
Victoria checked the address. “I’m not familiar with Maple Lane.”
“It’s off Old County Road, a long dirt road that ends at the State Forest. They changed the name from Skunk Alley.”
“Then I know where it is. Maple Lane isn’t as colorful a name.” She spotted the cans of Alaskan salmon she was looking for, reached for one, and checked the label. “This looks good enough for my supper. I think I’ll get an extra can, just in case.”
“They make it sound delicious, but it’s probably mostly the icky stuff cats love. Skin, bones, and innards.” She located Mehitabel’s preference and added several cans to her own cart. “Would you like to come by this afternoon? I’d be happy to pick you up. I have some paperwork I have to finish up first.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’ll be a nice break. I hate paperwork.”
“You and Casey. That’s what she just said.”
CHAPTER 33
Victoria was waiting by the west step when Abilene drove up in her pickup and got out.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” She opened the door for Victoria, who climbed up into the passenger seat.
“I’ve been looking forward to visiting your studio,” said Victoria.
“It’s an honor, Mrs. Trumbull.”
They turned onto the unpaved road now called Maple Lane.
“You’re close enough to be called a neighbor,” said Victoria.
“Actually, Mrs. Trumbull, I live even closer to you in my family’s old camp on Tisbury Great Pond.”
“I know the area well,” said Victoria. “I understand the pond setting has been discovered by people with more money than taste.”
“You’re so right. My little house is now sandwiched between two monster trophy houses.”
“They’re eyesores,” said Victoria. “A terrible waste of resources just to show off one’s wealth.”
“The owners think my camp is the eyesore.”
They passed several houses and Abilene slowed in front of a small shingled house to their left in a grove of young trees. The leaves were beginning to be touched with the distinctive gold of sugar maples.
“That’s the home of the couple who planted the trees and renamed the road after them.”
“It will be even more lovely in a week or so, especially if we have a cold snap,” said Victoria. “Is your studio nearby?”
“Right next door,” said Abilene. “My windows look out on the neighbor’s trees. You’ll see.” She turned into the next drive, which ended in a rough circle. Three or four cars were parked to one side.
“Those are my clients’ cars.”
“I’ve taken you away from your work, I’m afraid.”
“Not at all. My classes are in the mornings. Some of my advanced students like to stay later, doing their own thing.”
The studio was a barn-like building off to one side of the circle. Three steps led up to the plain wood door. Inside there was a kind of vestibule with shoes lined up below a coat rack.
Abilene took off her shoes, and Victoria bent down, untied her own, and slipped them off too. The vestibule led into a large, airy room.
Victoria’s first impression was of the silence. Then of the light that poured in through floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. The polished wood floor, as smooth as glass, reflected the sky and the trees to her left.
Several people were sitting or lying or stretched out on mats on the floor. The silence was so total, she thought at first the people were dummies until one of the stretchers moved his leg. It would be an intrusion to speak. She felt as though a single word would shatter the stillness of the big room.
“Follow me,” Abilene said in a quiet voice, and Victoria followed her to a small office with a door that opened off the fourth wall, the one with no windows. They entered, and she closed the door.
A wooden desk with only a few items on it faced them. To their left a love seat and a rocking chair took up a corner of the room and to their right a large window gave the office a feeling of being almost out of doors.
Victoria sat in the rocker. “A beautiful setting for your yoga classes. It’s peaceful.”
“I do have to share the studio.” Abilene took a seat behind her desk. “I couldn’t afford to rent it full time, although I wish I could.”
Outside, the maple leaves, barely tinged with early color, were quivering in a light breeze.
“Tell me more about your house on the pond. It was originally a hunting camp, wasn’t it?” asked Victoria.
Abilene nodded. “My great-great-grandfather built it more than a hundred years ago. My grandmother used to tell me stories about him. He loved duck hunting.”
“I haven’t walked along the pond’s edge for a long time. As I recall, your camp was right on the shore with a view toward the ocean, the only building on the point.”
“And your neighbors, what are they like?”
“They come only for a few weeks during the summer, so I haven’t gotten to know them. I don’t really want to know them.” She moved some papers on her desk and looked out the window. “They certainly don’t want to know me or have anything to do with me.”
“At least you see very little of them.”
“That’s true. But since they’ve sicced their attorneys on me I have to think about them every minute of every day. And I don’t have the wherewithal to fight them.”
“Their lawyers?” asked Victoria.
“My abutters have gotten together. First, they offered nicely to buy me out before they even built, and I refused. Then they upped the offer to an obscene amount, and I refused again. It’s been family land for more than a hundred years. It’s my home. It’s where I want to live.”
“I understand your feeling about family roots.”
Abilene nodded. “When that didn’t work they started threatening me with a lawsuit. I have a right to my property, I know. But I don’t have the money to fight to protect my right.”
Victoria said nothing.
“Samantha promised to support me in my fight to keep the camp and my land.”
“She had access to great wealth, didn’t she?”
“Her father gave her whatever she wanted. She’d ask him for a thousand dollars, and he’d peel off hundred-dollar bills and hand them to her.” Abilene pushed her chair back slightly. “She knew how much my place meant to me. She kept telling me how much I meant to her, and she promised to back me all the way. Pay for the best lawyers, and fight the abutters on my behalf. In fact, she had already engaged the lawyers. They would be contacting me any day, she said.”
“But they never did?”
Abilene’s laugh was bitter. “They did. They presented me with their bill. A bill I can’t pay.” Abilene looked out the window toward the maple trees and their shimmering leaves. “She promised and promised and nothing ever came of her promises. And now I’m about to be evicted.”
“How unfortunate that she was killed before she could help you.”